I Packed My Son’s Lunch Every Morning – It Led the Police Straight to My Door

“Meredith, thank you for coming in,” she said.

“Andrew is absolutely fine! He’s in class right now.”

My knees weakened so suddenly I had to grab the back of a chair.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “That wasn’t our intention at all.

I promise you.”

“Why don’t we talk in here?” Mr. Gellar said, gesturing toward an empty classroom.

The door closed behind us with a soft click that made the room feel smaller. Ms.

Whitman folded her hands and took a breath, as if choosing her words carefully.

“Kind?” I asked, frowning. “Please, explain.”

“Do you know a student named Haley?” Mr. Gellar asked.

“No,” I said honestly.

“Should I?”

“She’s in Andrew’s class,” he explained. “She’s a sweet kid. Polite.

Quiet. Keeps to herself mostly.”

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